


Bite Me

by IrenkaFeralKitty



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blue Team, Developing Relationships, Families of Choice, Gen, Slow Burn, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Werewolves, modern day AU, red team - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrenkaFeralKitty/pseuds/IrenkaFeralKitty
Summary: The first few months of a newly turned werewolf’s life should be exciting and full of wonder. Yes, there was danger and risk, but it was all manageable. What had been done to Wash was horrific and wrong. And fuck Tex for dumping this problem on him, Grif thought with bitterness.





	1. Being of Two Minds

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was inspired by [artsyorangekay](http://artsyorangeykay.tumblr.com/tagged/werewolf-au) on Tumblr. Go check out her amazing art of her RvB Werewolves AU!

As alarms blared over the intercom and red lights flashed overhead, Wash huddled beneath the ruined bed sitting against the far wall of his cell. A high pitched whine escaped his throat as the screeching siren drove through his skull and made his bones rattle.

Running feet suddenly raced down the hallway outside, causing Wash to instinctively scramble back against the wall, pressing against it so hard it almost felt like he was trying to melt into it.

_ Out, he had to get out, escape, hide, run-- _

_ Kill. Kill them all! Rip their flesh, tear them apart, how dare they imprison him! _

_ No, stop. No running, no killing. He was right where he should be, locked up like a wild animal. Didn’t matter that they’d done this to him. He remembered the taste of blood, flesh yielding to his attack. He hated this, all of this, but he was too dangerous to be let out-- _

The door to his cell slammed open with a loud bang and a uniformed body flew into the room, slamming into the floor and skidding along the scratched tile before eventually coming to a halt.

New footsteps sounded, heavy black boots squeaking on the scuffed and marred floor. A gloved hand shot under the bed, seized Wash by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him out into the open.

Hauling him up to eye level, Tex stared intently at him, her eyes glowing with a fierce light. “We’re getting out of here, rookie. You with me?”

The wild madness that had filled his brain for weeks, maybe even months, disappeared into thin air.  _ Tex, friend, safe.  _ Dozens of memories flashed through his mind, all centered around Tex. Cold and frightening at times, yes. But always there when push came to shove. Strong hands reaching out and holding tight, anchoring him and protecting him while his head rang and swam, stunned after being thrown into a wall by an explosion.

_ Tex had never hurt him _ .

The feeling of  _ wrong _ plaguing his body melted away, and the urge to scream and howl in mindless rage vanished. His bones almost seemed to liquify and as Tex’s tight grip loosened, he melted down onto the floor until he was all but draped over her boots.

“Aw, hell, kid,” Tex sighed, voice filled with pity. “They’ve really done a number on you, haven’t they?”

Unconcerned by her words, Wash pressed close to her legs and let his eyes drift shut. Tex’s scent filled his nose, layers of gunpowder, metal, smoke, and more he didn’t have word for. It was all so new, yet so familiar.

The terror he’d endured for so long slipped away. The memory of horrible pain lingering in his bones faded. All he cared about was Tex: Tex who was kneeling down next to him, touching and petting him, letting her scent fill his nose and soothe his pain and fear. There was a faint rustle of leather, then bare hands ran over him.

“Hey, Wash.”

Pressing his nose against her hip, Wash ignored the spoken words. Words didn’t matter. He had Tex. He hadn’t realized how much he needed Tex, but he did, he truly did need her.

“WASH.”

Instead of responding, he snorted, eyes still closed as he angled his head, hoping for more pets and scratches.

A strong hand seized his ear, twisting it sharply and causing him to yelp.

“Focus, Wash,” Tex snarled. He cringed. The hand stroked his ear, offering a silent apology for hurting him. “Wash, you can fall apart later. I need you functional. We can’t stay here. The Project is fucking imploding around us. You remember the Project?”

The sense of rapture that had engulfed him dissolved.

The Project.

Needles, drugs, they’d tied him down-

-thrown him in a cell-

- _ hurt hurt hurthurthurt bones shifting, breaking rearranging- _

-wrong, he was alone, shouldn’t have been alone, screaming in his head, it was ALL WRONG-

Project Freelancer Asset, codenamed AGENT WASHINGTON remembered. He remembered everything.

He scrambled backwards, away from Tex, clumsy as he struggled on four paws instead of human feet. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, he’d attacked everyone who’d come in after- after-

_ After being injected with strange smelling drugs, the orderlies threw him naked into a room filled with silver light pouring through the high, narrow window. Head swimming and his body burning with a strange fever, he stared at the light on the floor and knew he needed to be in the light. _

_ Unable to stand, he crawled forward on his hands and knees. Plunging into the wide beam of silver was liking diving into a pool of water. It surrounded him, wrapping around his body like silk, and then, his body changed. _

_ Once the change started, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep his bones from twisting and breaking, or his muscles and tendons from ripping and rearranging themselves. His skin literally crawled, felt like it was turning itself inside out as coarse fur sprouted all over his transforming body. Short, neatly trimmed nails thickened and grew into long, dangerous claws. _

_ It should have hurt, it sounded like it should hurt, but the light was like a soothing balm coating and protecting him from harm. _

_ Once the change was over, he lay stunned and shaking on the floor, overwhelmed by his sudden, shocking transformation. For a moment, his mind reeled, confused and frightened and horrified by what had just happened. _

_ But all that fell away as the mind of the wolf he’d become howled in mindless fear. Without the words to explain why, he knew this was  _ **_wrong_ ** _ , this shouldn’t have happened this way, something was  _ **_missing_ ** _ \-- _

_ And without that mysterious missing piece, Wash lashed out in rage and attacked the only target available: himself. _

Shaking off the memory of his first transformation, Wash cowered in the corner, as far from Tex as he could be. She needed to leave! Slam the door shut behind her and leave him locked away. Nights like tonight, he couldn’t resist the lure of the silver moonlight. It called to him, compelled him to transform. But for all the magic that light worked on his shifting form, it did nothing to soothe the enraged beast that had moved into his brain.

He’d gotten better about controlling it and pushing it into a small corner of his mind, but the moment anyone stepped into the room, day or night, it rose up, infuriated and murderous. His body forced itself through a transformation that was agony without the comfort of moonlight and then, howling with uncontrollable rage, he’d attack the intruder, seeking blood.

It was only a matter of time before he attacked Tex.

“Knock it off, Wash,” Tex growled. “We don’t have time to play around.” Then, sighing, she draw her black gloves out of her back pocket and started pulling them on. “You can’t stay here, Wash. I know you’re scared and confused and probably worried about hurting people. If you come with me  _ right now _ , I promise I’ll explain everything I can to you. But if you don’t--” she paused briefly, then continued with a grim expression. “What happened here can’t get out, Wash. And I’m going to make sure of that one way or another.”

Wash stared at her, his legs shaking from fear. This was  _ Tex _ , the mysterious last minute recruit who’d refused to share anything about herself. She was powerful, deadly, and unyielding. At the same time, though, the wolf was rumbling happily in his mind at her presence. This new, unwanted driving force welcomed and trusted her in a way it hadn’t anyone else.

Before he could make up his mind, more of the Project’s guards came rushing towards the open door of the cell. Tex pivoted quickly on her foot, and swung a rifle hanging on her back into position. Moments later, shot fired, the sound bouncing painfully off the smooth walls, ceiling, and floor. Through the scent of sulphur, Wash could smell blood.

“Last chance, rookie,” Tex snapped over her shoulder.

With a shudder, Wash forced himself away from the corner, nails clicking on the floor. Tex had never hurt him, he reminded himself. He could either go with her now, or be silenced.

Tex nodded, looking pleased. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The fight to escape the compound was a nightmare Wash knew he’d wish he could forget later on. But throughout, Tex stuck close to his side, shooting and punching and throwing the Project’s forces into walls and out of windows like they were only a passing annoyance.

The guards cursed and screamed at them, shouting out orders to  _ “Take them down!” _ and  _ “Don’t let the test subjects escape!” _ The orders crystallized something Wash had been desperate to deny: neither he nor Tex were anything more than lab rats for whatever nightmarish plan the Director had concocted, just another cog in the Project’s hellish machinery.

With this new knowledge, Wash didn’t put hesitate to defend himself, attacking on anyone who got too close and tearing through layers of body armor with sharp teeth. He may no longer be truly human, but that didn’t mean his life was suddenly meaningless.

After what seemed like hours, they made it out of the building that housed Medical and the isolation cells. The fight continued through the yard until they finally made it to the motor pool and found most of the vehicles there either destroyed or gone. With a savage grin, Tex sprinted towards a plain white pickup truck sitting lonely under a tall light illuminating the parking lot. Pulling a set of keys out of her pocket, she clicked the key fob, causing the truck’s doors to unlock and the lights to flash on.

“In the back,” she ordered.

By the time he’s settled into the open bed of the truck, Tex was in the cab and cranking the vehicle on. Then with a roar of diesel, the truck jerked into motion.

The sudden lurch of acceleration sent Wash stumbling into the side of the bed, his paws slipping on the metal surface. Damn it, he cursed to himself. At least give me time to get my bearings!

Tex either couldn’t actually read his mind or didn’t care, because the truck continued to swerve back and forth across the road as they raced towards the exit. Gunfire sprayed the ground around them and occasionally impacted the side of the truck, but Tex’s impersonation of a drunk driver was working well enough that no one landed a shot on either of them.

The sliding panel on the back window suddenly slammed open. “Hang on to something, rookie,” Tex shouted. “Things are about to heat up.”

Heat up? Then what do you call all this? Wash screamed internally. Terrified, he shoved himself against the side of the truck bed near the window, bracing himself between the back of the bed and the raised wheel well.

Just as he finally got himself situated, the reason for Tex’s warning exploded behind them - literally.

Medical erupted in a stunning roar of fire and noise, sending a rain of fragmented concrete and office supplies flying through the air. Their truck lurched as the energy wave from the blast ripped through the air. Then, there was another explosion, and another, and  _ another _ \--

How many bombs did she plant?!

The trucks barreled through the gate guarding the entrance to the base, knocking it flat as the Project burned behind them.

“Next time I see York, remind me to punch him in the dick,” Tex called out as they raced down a dirt road. “I told him to destroy the evidence, not blow up the entire goddamned base.”

With the facility he’d considered home for the past several years retreating in the distance, the sound of gunfire faded away until he could only hear the rumble of the truck. Wash cautiously stood up from his braced position, trying to sway and move with the movement of the truck. Once his legs felt relatively sturdy beneath him, he turned and shoved his head through the window, letting out a soft inquiring whine.

Tex glanced in the rearview mirror, grimacing when she saw him. “York wanted out, and I made that possible. As thanks, he promised to help me cover my tracks before he bolted. Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that big of a demolition job.” She grinned for a moment, looking wild and savage. Then, the smile faded away. “He told me he was going to try and get to you. When I saw him making his escape alone, though, I knew something must have gone wrong. York wouldn’t have left you behind without a good reason.”

Alone… he could have been left behind? He probably would have died during the proverbial fireworks, or at least been seriously injured. Wash shuddered. That was a terrifying thought.

Sighing, Wash laid down in the truck bed, his legs stretched out next to him. The fight had left him aching all over, and now that they were free, the wolf was prowling through his mind once more, urging him to leap out of the truck and go on the hunt.

‘Tex was in charge right now,’ he snarled at the wolf. She’d come to get him and promised to explain what the hell was going on. He was just going to have to trust her. If she’d wanted him dead, there’d been plenty of opportunity to take him out. Since she hadn’t, she needed him alive for one reason or another.

Shuddering, he rested his head on his front legs and stared at a clump of dirt wedged stuck in one of the channels running the length of the truck bed. Tex had come for him. He could trust her. He had to.


	2. Special Delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters, but I decided I didn't like them separate so I smushed them together.

Grif’s eyes opened slightly as the rumble of an approaching diesel truck echoed down the nearby dirt road. The sky had lightened from when he’d settled down to take a nap while he waited for Tex to show up.

Rising up to his feet, Grif yawned and gave himself a shake, shedding the leaves and stray twigs clinging to his chocolate colored fur. After a brief stretch, he strolled to another tree sitting a bit further back from the road where he’d hidden a duffle bag with his and Kai’s clothes. And under the fading light of the moon, he shifted.

The transformation was easy thanks to the lingering moonlight. Without the silver light, every moment of the change was agony, tolerable only because of the sheer joy of being in wolf form. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to deal with a moonless shift for a while, not with how quiet everything had been of late.

Kai came bounding up to the tree just as he was opening the duffle, blood still clinging to her muzzle.

“Grabbed a snack?” he asked as he dragged on a pair of cargo pants.

“Just some wood mice,” Kai cheerfully confirmed as she shifted back to human form. “I’ve got a study group in, like, two hours at the campus coffee shop.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing out here right now?” Grif demanded in an incredulous voice. “Go home!”

“Screw you, bitch,” Kai snorted, flashing him a rude gesture. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out the package of baby wipes and started to clean off the blood still clinging to her skin. “Like I would ever leave you alone to deal with Tex. After last time, I’m basically expecting her to just flat out punch you in the face.”

“I can take her,” Grif scoffed as he pulled a worn t-shirt on.

“Uh, yeah, no, she’d, like, totally kick your ass. Tex is awesome like that.”

Grumbling, Grif glared at his sister. “I could definitely take her.”

“Whatever,” Kai replied as she rolled her eyes. Shoving the now bloody wipe into the plastic bag they kept in the duffle for trash, she found her short sundress and held it up for a moment, admiring the bold, angular patterns stretching across the skirt and bodice. Then, tugging it down over her head, she wormed her way into the lightweight dress. The soft fabric fluttered around her and, when the light was at her back, her lack of underwear was crystal clear. Not that Kai cared - she’d go to class naked if she could.

Shaking his head, Grif pushed his usual irritation with his sister’s lax attitudes towards human social customs aside and pulled out two pairs of flip flops. Then, shoving the remaining clothes deeper into the bag, he zipped it shut and swung it onto his shoulder.

“What’s with the extras?” Kai asked as she pushed her feet into the flip flops. “Did Tex find another loner who needs to learn some manners?”

“Maybe,” Grif grunted. Once he had his own shoes on, he started towards the road. “She said she might have one werewolf with her, or several. And maybe none at all. That it depended on how shit went down.”

“What shit?”

“Something to do with the old military base a few towns over, I think.”

“Weird.”

“That’s Tex for you.”

The siblings were still struggling to understand the deadly woman who went by the name Tex. Despite not being a werewolf herself, Tex made a living as a professional werewolf tracker. She took down rabid werewolves and rescued the lost souls who’d been attacked, turned, and abandoned. Half the packs within a hundred miles had recruited her for some task or another and she always delivered.

The rumble of a diesel engine grew louder and finally, a white truck came into view down the dirt road. Grif clamped a hand on Kai’s shoulder, holding her firmly in place behind the shelter of the trees. And despite her irritated huff, she stayed.

“Jesus fuck,” Grif breathed as the truck drew closer. That was Tex behind the wheel, driving a truck littered with bullet holes.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Kai breathed, twisting under Grif’s hand until she could better peer around the tree. Her scent shifted, adding a hint of arousal that made Grif instinctively recoil.

“Morning, assholes,” Tex called out as she rolled down the driver’s side window. Bringing the vehicle to a stop, she leaned out and stared directly towards them.

Suppressing a flash of irritation, Grif let go of Kai and stepped out from behind the tree, hands shoved into his pockets with a bored air. “Couldn’t this have waited until lunch time?” he shouted back.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tex replied. With a confident smirk, she turned off the truck and stepped out. “Did you bring the stuff?”

“You mean clothes? Yeah, I grabbed some of the extra stuff from the ranch. Why?” Grif demanded as he drew closer.

“Just hand them over.”

Rolling his eyes, Grif pulled the bag off his shoulder and tossed it at her. Snatching the bag out of the air, Tex immediately circled around to the back of the truck, vanishing from direct line of sight.

Fuck, she had found a loner. Grif let out an aggravated sigh. Someday he’d find out exactly why it was he’d become her favorite person to dump the battered souls she found as she traveled around on. He’d only just managed to get rid of the _last_ stray werewolf she’d delivered on his doorstep.

Well, the last one was only mostly gone. Caboose still insisted on coming around Sarge’s ranch to visit far too often.

The sound of snapping bones and a liquid sloshing like someone shaking a half-empty bottle of ketchup suddenly floated out from the back of the truck, followed by pained gasps. The woods around them had taken on a faint glow as the sun approached the horizon. No more moonlight. Bad day to be a lost and lonely werewolf.

“Oo, he’s hot,” Kai breathed behind him when Tex finally reappeared with her latest werewolf rescue following behind her.

Jabbing her in the ribs with her elbow, Grif determinedly fixed a bored expression on his face while he studied the new werewolf.

The man was slightly taller than Grif but significantly thinner. The clothes Grif had borrowed from the overflowing closets at the ranch hung loosely on the man’s frame, and it wasn’t just because they were the wrong size. A mix of faintly silvery scars and still healing wounds cross-crossed the man’s exposed skin and vanished under the sleeves of the button-down shirt.

Grif knew enough about werewolf healing that the silvery scars sent a pitying shiver down his spine. Those wounds had been inflicted by another werewolf - or himself. It wasn’t unusual for recently turned werewolves to start attacking themselves if they were abandoned by the Alpha who’d given them the Bite.

Discomfort and fear radiated off Tex’s latest find. He trudged along behind her with his arms clamped against his chest and his shoulders hunched. His dull and tired gray eyes darted to and fro, and he twitched with nervous energy.

As Tex strolled past the battered white truck, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, the man followed, tugged along as though he was being pulled by an invisible leash. Once they’d come to a stoop in front of Grif and Kai, a faint gurgle floated out of the man’s stomach. Scarred skin flushed in embarrassment.

Rolling his eyes, Grif dug into one of the over-large pockets of his pants and pulled out an energy bar. “Let me guess, she didn’t feed you?” Grif asked in a dry voice. Snorting at the blank look he received, Grif lobbed it at him with an easy underhand throw.

The man fumbled to grab the energy bar, but it ended up bouncing off his fingers and falling to the ground. Visible frustration crossed his face as he stooped to pick it back up. Then, he tore through the wrapper and took a huge bite, chewing ferociously.

Tex laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, getting his attention. “Wash, this is Grif and his sister Kai. They’re going to look after you for a while.” Then, directing her intense gaze at Grif, Tex threw the duffel bag at him and continued. “Keep an eye on him for me. I want him back in one piece.”

The man- Wash- froze mid-bite, then hurriedly chewed and swallowed. “You said you’d explain everything,” he accused her. “But now you’re what, just going to drop me off at daycare?” The pitch of his voice rose steadily as his aggregation increased.

“We’re not babysitters, Tex,” Grif added in a pointed voice, deliberately ignoring the bag that had landed near his feet.

“Could have fooled me,” Tex countered. “You’ve done pretty well with all the others I’ve found over the last few years.”

“Yeah, well, this guy’s the first one you’ve ever actually sounded like you cared about what happened to him.”

“I have my reasons.” Growling faintly under her breath, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at Wash. “In short, the Director was trying to create super soldiers out of werewolves. My job was to put an end to his little science project, but it all went to hell. There are too many loose threads out there, and most of them could get a lot of people killed if they aren’t dealt with.”

“So you’re just leaving?” Wash got screechy when he was upset, it turned out.

“I have to. I know that wasn’t the deal, Wash, and I’m sorry about that. But that’s just the way things are right now.” Letting her arms drop to her sides, Tex pushed past Wash and headed for the driver’s side door of the truck. Pausing next to the door, she turned back to look at him. “Grif and Kai are werewolves, Wash, so you’re not alone. They’ll help you figure this out and make sure you don’t hurt anyone in the process. You can trust them for that, at least.”

“Gee, thanks,” Grif muttered darkly.

Tex pulled open the truck door and climbed inside. After starting it up, she cranked down the window. “Keep your head down, Wash, and listen to Grif. I know he’s an idiot, but he and his sister have been werewolves a long time. They know what they’re doing.”

With a final look, Tex put the truck into reverse and pulled away, carefully turning the truck until she was headed back in the direction she’d come from. And then, she was gone, leave a cluster of confused and annoyed werewolves behind.

* * *

Wash’s hand clutched tight on his energy bar as the flickering lights of Tex’s stolen truck vanished around the bend. _She was leaving him behind_ , he realized with panic. The wolf whimpered in his head, feeling lost and abandoned.

“So, hot stuff, want to head back to my place?” a feminine voice asked in a sly tone. A warm body suddenly pressed up against his side while an arm wrapped around his waist.

Startled, Wash looked down and found the woman, Kai, staring up at him with amber colored eyes. She wore a confident smile as her hand squeezed his hip. A spicy scent flooded his nose, layers of different smells that combined to be unique to her. Without thinking, Wash ducked his head, sniffing intently at her hair. A faint, artificial fruity musk clung to her hair and skin beneath the smell of trees.

“Aw, you are new at this, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sounding disappointed, Kai unwound her arm and shifted around until she was standing directly in front of him. Reaching out, she cupped his jaw with her hands, then threaded her fingers up through his hair, lightly scratching and rubbing at his scalp. “We’ll play another time.”

The friendly gesture triggered a flood of warmth in his stomach and Wash couldn’t help but press his head into the touch as his eyes partially closed. The horrible fear that Tex’s departure had triggered eased off slightly. _New pack?_ the wolf wondered hopefully.

 _Wait, what was he doing?_ Embarrassment flooding through him, Wash’s eyes snapped open and he jerked away, shaking his head to dislodge the woman’s hands.

“Kai, get going,” Grif immediately snapped. “You have a study group, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai agreed. “See you around, hottie.” With a wink, she stepped back and gathered up the hem of her skirt, tying the excess fabric into a bulky knot at the small of her back. Then, with a sudden cracking sound, her body blurred as she transformed. When the blur faded away, a a brown wolf with a darker face stood in her place. In the growing daylight, her fur took on a faintly reddish hue, glowing along the tips like highlights. Kai gave herself a shake, sending her fur and the sundress whipping around her. After flashing them a toothy grin, she loped away, long legs stretching forward and sturdy paws digging into the ground. Within moments, she was gone.

“She’s just… going to run into town like that?” Wash demanded in an incredulous voice. “As a giant wolf wearing a dress?”

“Basically.” Grif shrugged, looking unconcerned. “At a glance, people will think she’s a dog. And she just needs to get back to her apartment so she can grab her stuff.”

“And no one is going to care? She’ll just parade around like that until she decides to do something else?

“It’s worked so far,” Grif replied.

“A study group,” Wash repeated. “You said she had a study group.” He started down the dirt path that had taken Tex and Kai away, unsettled. The energy bar crinkled in his hand, and he forced himself to take another bite. The flavor of preservatives and artificial sweeteners was disgusting, but he was too hungry to stop eating.  

Once he’d finished the bar, he stared uncertainty at the wrapper, eventually balling it up and shoving it into the pockets of his borrowed pants. “She’s in school? College?” he asked, glancing over at the other man. “She goes out and- and just lives like a regular human?”

“Yeah, basically.” Grif leaned back against a tree and shoved his hands in his pockets, a curious look on his face. “It’s what most of us do. There are some weirdos who stick to the woods and the occasional nutcase who runs around attacking people. But in the end, the weirdos keep to themselves and trackers like Tex take down the nutcases.”

Wash raised his hands in front of himself, staring down at the scarred flesh. “So where do I fit in?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You tell me,” was all Grif replied. The asshole was completely inscrutable. Wash could smell him, even several feet away. All his senses felt overloaded, but he didn’t know how to process the information. It was like standing in the middle of a library that had all the books chained to the shelves. Answers were just out of reach and he didn’t know how to get to them.

“I don’t-” Breaking off, Wash balled his hands into fists, his arms trembling with frustration. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t sign up to become a- a werewolf, or a test subject. Or take part in whatever the fuck the Director was trying to do. I just... wanted to help people. And now I’m… I don’t even know,” he concluded as a wave of bitterness swept over him.

Groaning, Grif rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re not just some random dude who got the Bite while walking in the woods one night, are you?”

“... No, I never got bitten by… by anything.” The Bite. Wash could _hear_ the capital letters in that phrase.

Wash forced himself to take a deep breath. Then another. Squeezing his eyes closed, he did his best to shove away the panic and the wolf pacing restlessly through his brain. Focus. Compartmentalize. Gather intel. Stop thinking about a hundred different problems. Worry about the big picture later.

“The Bite, huh? Sounds like something right out of Hollywood,” he finally said once he’d gotten his frantic thoughts somewhat under control.

“Eh, sort of,” Grif replied with a small shrug. “Like most of the crap Hollywood puts out, it’s only loosely based in reality. Supernatural movies are mostly anti-werewolf propaganda, really. It’s why we try to stay under the radar.” Grif pushed away from the tree and grabbed the duffel bag off the ground, slinging it on his shoulder. “Come on. There’s no reason to keep standing around here when there’s a perfectly good couch less than a mile away.”

“A couch-” New fear shot through him and a shudder ran down his spine. “I can’t- I shouldn’t be around people,” Wash hurried to point out. “Everyone I’ve been around that- that isn’t you, Kai, or Tex- I- Grif, I hurt people. I’m dangerous. If anything, I should stay out here. I’ll figure out how to- to hunt and-”

A vision started to unfold in his mind of a solitary life in the woods: scavenging for food, desperately avoiding people while being so lonely…

Grif snorted and suddenly he was right next to him-- when had he moved? “Dude, chill.” Without any hesitation, he bumped his shoulder into Wash, sending him staggering to the side, arms windmilling as he struggled not to fall. “You’re not a monster or an insane beast. That’s Hollywood talking. Now come on.”

Without another word, Grif plunged deeper into the woods. After staring at the other man’s retreating back for a few moments, Wash sighed and hurried to follow him. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

“Tell me about the Bite,” Wash insisted once he’d caught up to Grif.

“Not much to tell,” Grif replied, easily weaving his way through the trees in the growing light. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. “Some werewolves have the ability to turn humans into werewolves. The process itself is actually kind of complicated and it doesn’t work on all humans. I’ve never met anyone who could explain why.”

“I didn’t get bit by anything, though.” Wash gnawed at his lower lip as he followed along behind Grif, thinking back to the hours before the cell. “The Program’s scientists injected me with something. They said it was just the flu shot, but once it was done, they threw me in a medical observation room and locked the door. A few hours later, there was moonlight pouring through a small window and I- I changed.”

Grif froze mid step, a strange look on his face. “They did what?” he demanded, wheeling around to stare at Wash.

Cringing, Wash halted and replied, “I’m guessing that’s not how it’s supposed to work?”

“Fuck no, it isn’t,” Grif responded. The look on his face shifted into something Wash was far too familiar with for his own comfort: horror. “You’re either either born a werewolf or turned by the Bite. There’s no drugs or shots or bullshit like that!” Letting out a few muttered swear words, he turned away and started walking again. “Goddamned bullshit. I hope Tex tears everyone involved apart like fucking tissue paper. That is messed up.”

“What are you talking about?” Wash demanded. When Grif didn’t reply, Wash snarled and grabbed him by the shoulder, anger suddenly erupting inside him as he shoved the other man against a tree. “I asked you a fucking question!”

Immediately, Grif lashed out, knocking his arm aside with his own, and then he was on him, pinning him to the ground with a blur of motion. Wash gasped as he collided with the ground, dirt and ground up leaves flying up into his face.

Grif leaned down, effortlessly holding him down with bodyweight alone. A hand seized his head, rotating it sideways. “Don’t fucking try to fight me,” he snarled directly into Wash’s ear. “You may have been some would-be military project wonderkid, but I’ve been a werewolf my whole life. Until you’ve managed to settle down in your own skin and you aren’t fighting yourself, you’re nothing more than a goddamned puppy. You don’t get to push me around.”

A tremor ran through Wash’s body. The wolf whimper in his head, and they were both shaking, inwards and out. Grif’s hand shifted down to his neck, fingernails biting briefly into his skin like the nip of sharp teeth.

“Tex told me to look after you and I’m going to do just that,” Grif continued in deep rumble that Wash could feel as much as hear. “Until you’re ready to be on your own, you’re _mine_ , Wash. Even if she comes back, you’re not going anywhere unless I think it’s the best thing for you. Got it?”

Wash wanted to say no, to argue that he didn’t belong to anyone but himself…

But there was no denying the peace that fell over him like a weighted blanket at Grif’s dramatic pronouncement. It was like the night before when Tex had stormed into his cell, but better. He didn’t understand Tex, he never had. And even during the turmoil of the night before, she’d only promised him answers, nothing more.

 _Pack_ , the wolf rumbled happily in his head. _Not alone_ . _Safe_.

Grif’s scent filled his nose, and suddenly some of the pieces fell into place in his head.

Sincerity. Determination. Possessiveness. Affection. Irritation.

He couldn’t have told somehow what those emotions smelled like, the words simply didn’t exist. But suddenly, he knew them and recognized them. Grif was going to take care of him and teach him. He was offering him a _home_. And in the face of this realization, the fight and anger melted right out of him and his chaotic thoughts slipped away, leaving him feeling soft and floaty. Listening to Grif suddenly seemed like the best possible idea ever. Of all time.

A heavy sigh vibrated against his back. “You’re going to be a melodramatic piece of shit aren’t you?” Grif asked in a weary voice. Then, he rolled off, leaving Wash lying alone limp on the ground. “Come on, it’s not much further.”


	3. Damage Control

Grif shut the door to the little shack he called home with a relieved sigh and watched wearily as Wash stumbled into the small living space. 

The new werewolf had followed after him like an eager pup after their little altercation in the woods, which wasn’t all that surprising under the circumstances. But damn, Grif  _ hated _ pulling that Alpha wolf bullshit on others. He’d seen how what kind of damage that power could have and he’d sworn to himself to use it as little as possible in order to keep from repeating the mistakes of the past.

But it wasn’t like he’d had a choice. Wash was a mess, more than he realized. Now that Grif had spent some time with him, even the short half hour’s walk back to the ranch, he could smell the sickness on him. He’d been turned into a werewolf, but nothing about the process had been right. He didn’t seem to feel like he fit in his own skin and his emotions were all over the place, jumping from one to the next. But even as he seesawed from rage to curiosity and on to confusion, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of fear.

Worst of all, Grif could almost hear the wolf in Wash’s head and see it pushing him to lash out and fight.

The wolf shouldn’t still be a separate force, not after the first full moon. The instincts and drive of the wolf should have faded into Wash’s mind until they were one being, a seamless blend of human and wolf. Instead, the wolf was fighting back, resisting integration. It raged and craved the blood of the people who had hurt him. It was astonishing, really, that Wash hadn’t been consumed by that seething animalistic rage.

The first few months of a newly turned werewolf’s life should be exciting and full of wonder. Yes, there was danger and risk, but it was all manageable. What had been done to Wash was horrific and wrong. And fuck Tex for dumping this problem on him.

This was a really shitty way to start the day.

Leaving the door behind, Grif hurried after Wash and steered him towards the small kitchenette. The ranch hand house he lived in was small. There was room for several employees, but Sarge hadn’t hired anyone new since Grif had joined him. Which meant Grif had the space all to himself, something that came in handy every time Tex found some random werewolf who needed looking after for a short while.

Pushing Wash down onto one of the stools tucked against the counter, Grif cast a quick look over the kitchenette. Spotting the bag of clementines Simmons had brought him a few days earlier, he grabbed a few and put them down in front of Wash.

“Here’s the deal,” Grif began, carefully watching Wash’s face. “Eat these, then go take a fucking nap. There’s a bathroom and a bunkroom. Not hard to find. Take whatever bunk you want, just leave mine alone. I’ll be back in a few hours. Just stay here and don’t go anywhere, alright?”

Wash nodded slowly, his eyes still a bit glassy from how Grif had mind-whammied him into submission earlier.

Shuddering, Grif offered the man a silent apology. God-DAMN did Grif hate doing that. He had a hunch Wash wouldn’t be susceptible to an Alpha’s influence in the future, but that didn’t make it any less cringy that Grif could subvert the man’s own will for now. Hopefully it would be the last time. Food and proper rest should do wonders to get Wash started on the road to recovery.

While Wash started slowly peeling the clementines with clumsy hands, Grif disappeared into the bunk room and changed into his work clothes - which primarily meant putting on a heavier shirt and a pair of steel toed boots. Grabbing his phone, he paused long enough to check on Wash before heading out. Hopefully, Wash would do what he was told and go take a fucking nap. And if Grif was really lucky, he’d be out long enough for Grif to put together a list of supplies and see what he could get from the ranch and what he needed Kai to fetch for them.

The main house was only a few dozen yards from the bunk house. And as Grif drew closer, he could smell breakfast. He immediately picked up the pace. Wash had eaten his energy bar. He was fucking hungry.

“Took you long enough,” Simmons barked when he breezed into the kitchen.

“What can I say, there are just days when your bed is too comfy to leave,” Grif replied in an airy voice. Simmons’ scent shifted slightly when Grif mentioned his bed - a brief flash of excitement, a rush of embarrassment, and a whole truck load of anxiety. As always, Grif pretended he didn’t have such a deep insight into the other man’s moods and simply carried on.

“Good morning, Grif!” Donut greeted him cheerfully from the stove where he was cooking a simple but hearty meal. Beaming, the still-reedy teenager gave him a happy wave.

Grif gave him a wordless grunt as way of greeting, focusing instead of pouring himself a cup of coffee. After dumping some sweetener into the mug, he dropped down into the chair next to Simmons and took a long sip. God, today sucked.

“Sarge is already out in the field,” Simmons reported as Grif relaxed next to him. “He wants to get more of the fence replaced today, so make sure you take your gloves with you.”

“Gloves,” Grif repeated blankly.

Letting out an aggravated sound, Simmons jerked his head towards the end of the table. Sure enough, there were his heavy work gloves. “I went ahead and found them for you so you can get  _ right to work _ after breakfast,” he said pointedly.

“Thanks, Simmons, sounds great,” Grif sighed. Damn it. He needed a nap, and vanishing while looking for his gear would have been so perfect… Glancing over, Grif squinted at the redhead sitting next to him. “Dude, what crawled up your ass this morning? Your posture’s all twisted and shit.”

Face flushing, Simmons went rigid, then deliberately gave himself a small shake, forcibly relaxing his tense shoulder so it wasn’t sitting several inches higher than the other one. “I’m fine. Just… I have a big paper due on Monday,” he mumbled staring down into his weird vegan oatmeal breakfast.

“You’ve written plenty of papers over the last year and a half without freaking out,” Grif argued with narrowed eyes.

There was a faint sound of metal scraping tile as Simmons shifted his legs under the table and his prosthetic scraped the floor. “I didn’t get as much done on it last night as I’d planned. I got distracted when some wolves started howling outside. No one could work with all that racket.

Right. Grif cringed slightly inside. He and Kai had probably gotten a bit carried away last night. It had just been such a great night - cloudless, the air just starting to get cool, and the moon glowing so bright overhead… It had been the perfect night to hunt and play.

“You just wanted an excuse to procrastinate,” Grif replied after a moment. “Besides, if some weird random wolves went on the attack, they’re going to get me way before they get to you. I’m in a goddamned shack, remember? The walls on this fucking house are, like, a solid foot thick and pure stone. Plus, you have Sarge’s doomsday weapon horde to defend yourself with.”

That was the real issue, after all, wasn’t it? Simmons had heard him and Kai howling outside and his anxiety had cranked up to eleven while visions of attacking ravening beasts played through his mind. He supposed it was an understandable reaction given Simmons’ situation.

Unaware of Grif’s internal musings, Simmons smirked slightly and some of the tension surrounding him eased off at their familiar banter. “Yeah, I guess they’d gorge themselves on your fat ass and pass out, wouldn’t they?”

Grif pointed an accusatory finger at Simmons. “I am not fat,” he said in a severe voice. “I am big boned.”

“Bones aren’t that big, dummy.”

“Come on, guys, that’s enough boner talk!” Donut suddenly interrupted. He beamed as he slid a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Grif. “We can pick this up tonight and really have some action!”

“Donut!” Simmons exclaimed.

The younger man simply grinned at them as he settled down to eat his own breakfast. Donut had moved in just a few months earlier, eagerly jumping at Sarge’s offer of housing as a way to keep costs down while he went to school. One year in the campus dorms had been enough for him.

Grif and Simmons were still getting used to Sarge’s several-steps-removed nephew, and the tale Sarge had sput describing exactly how they were related had gone up and down the family tree, through multiple divorces and remarriages, a few adoptions, and a worrying number of assumed identities. Simmons had eventually decided to draw up a family tree and the result looked disturbingly similar to a plate of spaghetti.

Undeterred by Simmons’ clear irritation, Donut breezed along with the conversation. “What time did you want to get to campus today?” he asked. “I wasn’t going to meet Doc for lunch until 11:30, but I’m cool heading in early if you need.”

Sighing, Simmons nodded. “Yeah, I need to do some research in the library,” he admitted. “Can we leave after breakfast?”

“You got it, buddy!”

“Better you than me,” Grif commented out the side of his mouth before digging into his meal. “I’d make sure you have your headphones this time. I’m pretty sure your head will actually explode if you have to listen to him the whole drive into town.”

“They’re already in my bag,” Simmons quietly replied with a small grimace.

Grif took his time eating, letting Donut’s excited chatter about how his second year of college was going wash over him. It was nice having some time to just sit, eat, and relax with the other two men. He couldn’t deny he felt rather possessive of them both, and especially Simmons. If they’d been werewolves, they would probably have formed a proper pack.

But that wasn’t possible. For a number of reasons.

Suppressing a sigh, he let his mind return to his new werewolf problem. With no real forewarning, Grif wasn’t set up to take care of someone as battered as Wash.

It’d probably be best to stick with stocking up on the basics for now. Once Wash was more coherent, he’d be able to ask him about food preferences, proper clothes, and shit like that. For now, they could probably get by with jerky, ramen, frozen fish, and the overflowing closets with every piece of clothing discarded or forgotten by Sarge’s sprawling extended family.

The tricky part would be in making sure none of the others found out about Wash, Grif reflected as he continued working on his scrambled eggs. Wash wasn’t going to be like the others Tex had dropped off with him. He didn’t need a brief orientation into werewolf life before being sent on his way. No, Wash was damaged in ways Grif had never seen before. And that meant he would be sticking around longer than any of the other werewolves in the past.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if any of the humans who dwelled in the main house found out about Wash. Sarge, a former soldier with a chip on his shoulder, barely tolerated him as it was. He considered Grif useful for ensuring no other werewolves bothered them, but no further. And he definitely wasn’t allowed to be on ranch property during the full moon. Adding a second werewolf was out of the question.

Donut was far too flighty to trust with knowledge of the existence of werewolves. He’d be all over Grif, and then Wash, demanding details and wanting to brush their fur, and to play. When he was done fussing, he’d be blabbing about all of it to his boyfriend and anyone else in earshot. And eventually, word would reach the ears of someone dangerous.

And Simmons… he couldn’t tell Simmons. The anxiety-wrought man had lost his arm and leg to a wild animal attack barely two years earlier. He rather understandably still freaked when he heard wolf howls. Telling him that werewolves were a  _ thing _ guaranteed a meltdown of epic proportions. (And he’d hate Grif forever afterwards… That would literally be the worst.)

So for now, he needed to focus on keeping Wash hidden until he had a handle on being a werewolf and the sickly scent surrounding him faded away. Then he could set him loose on the world or whatever it was Wash wanted to do from there. He wouldn’t be Grif’s problem anymore.

With a new plan in mind, Grif down the last of his eggs with renewed energy. He would need to text Kai while he headed out to find Sarge and he’d need a nap for sure at some point today. Fortunately, Sarge could be grudgingly accommodating after a full moon. If he put in a decent amount of work this morning, he might even be able to skip doing anything at all in the afternoon.

Plate now empty, Grif shoved it back and stood, leisurely stretching. He gave Simmons’s shoulder a cheerful whack. “Don’t freak out too much, nerd,” Grif ordered with a carefully light tone. “I’m skipping out as soon as I can today, so you better get back here soon to distract Sarge for me.”

Grabbing his gloves from the end of the table, Grif shoved them into his back pocket and pulled out his phone while he headed for the door. Time to get the ball rolling.

* * *

Consciousness dawn on Wash slowly. Something felt off, but he just couldn’t put his finger on what. And he was so tired he couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes and investigate. 

_ If something important is going on, Connie will come get me,  _ he mused as he buried his face in his pillow. 

Although, come to think of it, he didn’t remember his pillow being so thin. Or lumpy. Or smelling faintly of mothballs and processed sugar. 

A sense of disquiet began to build in his mind. In the back of his head, something began to grumble. Pushing aside the part of him that wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, Wash forced himself to pry open his eyes and found himself staring into darkness. Worry began to build in his gut as a small room came into focus as his eyes adjusted. 

A bunk bed sat facing him, the edge of the large lower mattress barely two feet from the one he was lying on. Casting his eyes about, Wash realized there was another bed above him, and that he was lying in an identical bunk bed, albeit, one that was considerably more lived in. Where the other mattresses that he could see only had a simple blanket and pillow, his current bed had sheets and a blanket. Another pillow sat near his head, temporarily shoved to the side, and a thick comforter had been shoved up against the wall. 

This wasn’t home base. 

_ Sleep _ , came a sudden wordless rumble inside his mind.  _ Pack den. Safe. Rest. Listen to Alpha _ .

Rather than being comforting, the feeling of this other mind within his own head sent a shock of electricity down his spine and Wash catapulted himself out of the bed. He teetered for a moment, uncertain if he had two legs, or four. His hand swept across his backside, checking for the tail that was somehow failing to help him with his balance. 

No tail. No tail meant no fur. Human. He was  _ human _ right now. 

With this understanding came the memory of the previous night - had it really been the night before? Tex, dangerous and mysterious, rescuing him from the medical observation room-turned-cell. Fighting to escape the base and watching is explode and burn as they fled. And then the other werewolves, Grif and Kai. Tex had left him with them before abandoning him like garbage on the side of the road.

_ Grif _ . He’d  _ done _ something to him, Wash realized. White hot anger erupted inside him. One moment he’d been ready to tear his head off, the next he’d been following eagerly along behind him, happy and content while the world turned hazy and indistinct. The only solid, certain thing around had been Grif, that bastard.

Spotting the door to the odd bedroom, Wash stalked towards it, ready to hunt Grif down and make it abundantly clear that he was to  _ never  _ mess with Wash’s mind again. 

Grabbing the doorknob, Wash wrenched it open to reveal a small living room and kitchenette. Grif was sprawled out on the cramped couch looking more than half asleep. The only light in the room came from the TV, which was currently showing a pair of muted figures trying to sell a knife set.

Rather than cower in terror, Grif turned his head to stare with heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh, you’re finally awake. Evening, Sleeping Beauty.”

“You- You did something to me,” Wash growled. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Grif yawned and his teeth seemed to flash as the light from the TV hit them. “You were losing it, dude. Had to get you back here somehow.”

“And where, exactly, is  _ here _ ?”

“Ranch outside of the town of Blood Gulch,” Grif replied with another yawn. “Got plenty of room for a new werewolf to figure things out. As long as you avoid the ranch’s owner, that is. More importantly, there’s some beef jerky on the counter. I’m guessing you’re pretty hungry. Help yourself.”

The mention of food completely threw him off, and Wash found himself suddenly hunting for the promised bag of jerky. 

“Tap water’s fine if you need a drink.”

Locating the bag of jerky, Wash tore into the strips of dried meat, suddenly feeling absolutely ravenous. The wolf perking up and rumbled happily in his mind. 

After finishing off one of the jerky strips, Wash dug through the cabinets until he found a random assortment of plastic cups. Picking one of them, he filled it up with tap water and took a long swallow. 

“It’s not like the whammy was super effective,” Grif grumbled under his breath while Wash ate. “Anyone else would have followed every order I gave to a tee. But no, you had to go be ornery and take my bed for a nap even though I explicitly told you not to.”

Squaring his jaw, Wash glared. “Just don’t do it again,” he warned Grif. 

“I’m not planning on it,” Grif snorted. “It’s messed up.”

“I- yes, yes it is,” Wash agreed. He’d been expecting a fight, but Grif was just… going along with everything? That couldn’t be right. 

Grif rearranged himself slightly on the couch so he could better look at Wash. “Just so you know, there’s like, cereal and shit in the cabinets if you want it tomorrow. Got some ramen and frozen stuff, too, if you want.”

Wash stared, chewing slowly on a particularly thick piece of jerky.

Grumbling, Grif crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down more on the couch. “Look, it’s late, I’ve been awake since late last night, and you look like you could use another week of sleep. We can go over everything in the morning. I just really need you to trust me right now.”

“Why the hell should I do that?” Wash demanded. After everything that had happened, how could he even consider trusting anyone?

“Well, if nothing else I’ve said today has convinced you, just keep in mind that Tex expects to find you completely intact whenever she bothers coming this way again. Which means, looking out for you and helping you is in my best interests. She may not be a werewolf, but she sure as hell knows how to fight them.”

Agony hit him like a lash at the mention of Tex and Wash found himself curling in on himself as he remembered her sudden departure. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought back a pained whimper and the urge to howl at the sky in a desperate attempt to find her.

“What- what’s wrong with me?” he demanded as he shook. “I can’t- Everything’s just too-” His voice broke off, and he found he couldn’t finish his question.

Looking concerned, Grif swung his legs onto the floor and rose from the couch. Hurrying over, he slowed once he was in touching distance, carefully telegraphing his motions as he reached out to rest his hand on Wash’s shoulder.

“I mentioned earlier that being turned into a werewolf is a complicated process,” Grif said slowly. His hand felt as heavy as a lead weight, and gave Wash something solid to focus on. “The scientists in that fucked up program you were in may have gotten the physical change to happen, but that’s only part of it. Your entire system is out of whack right now, including your emotions.”

“I feel like I’m on a roller coaster,” Wash interjected, desperately clutching at his own arms.

“You just need time to recover and let things even out,” Grif explained in a firm voice. “And you’ll get there. You’re not the first fucked up werewolf I’ve ever seen, and you won’t be the last.”

Still shaking, Wash gave into his instincts and collapsed against Grif, burying his face in the man’s shoulder. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because Tex’ll rip my dick off if I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Grif stood silent for a moment, then, sighing, let one of his arms wrap loosely around his back. “I’ve seen what happens when werewolves go bad. A lot of people get hurt, and that’s fucked up. I’m making sure that here, at last, it doesn’t happen like that again. No one deserves to get hurt like that.”

“So you’re going to take care of me?” Wash asked in a small voice.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take care of you,” Grif confirmed. “But that shouldn’t take too long. I’ll have you out of my hair in no time.”

Grif had been right that Wash was exhausted, because he could feel himself wilting as he continued to lean against Grif’s stocky frame.

“Alright, come one,” Grif said in a firm voice. Reaching down, he plucked the bag of jerky out of Wash’s hand and tossed it back on the counter. “Naptime. And this time, you’ll be in your own bed, not mine.”

A soft whine escaped Wash’s throat as the wolf protested.

“No, I mean it,” Grif continued in a stern voice. Then, he was being propelled towards the bedroom door once more. “You can get up to use the bathroom or to get food. But that’s it. The rest of the time, you need to be resting.”

“I don’t want to sleep anymore,” Wash grumbled. 

“Tough luck. That’s all you’re going to be doing for a while, you lucky bastard.”

Wash felt his eyelids drooping as Grif tucked him into one of the spare beds. Grif’s neglected heavy comforter was laid down over the thin sheet on his bed and finally both Wash and the wolf felt at peace now that Grif’s scent was draped over him. 

While Wash drifted back off to sleep, he felt the momentary pressure of a hand passing through his hair. “You’re getting soft,” Grif muttered softly, seemingly to himself.

It wasn’t weakness to protect others, Wash wanted to argue. But he was so tired, and before he could speak up, he fell back asleep.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of my completed chapters. With the holidays coming up, updates going forward are going to be a bit slow as I continue working. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [IrenkaFeralKitty](http://irenkaferalkitty.tumblr.com)!


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